Chapter 10 – The Confession
The mansion had never felt so suffocating. Every shadow seemed to whisper, every creak of the stairs a warning. I couldn't sleep—my father's letter still burned in my hands, Adrian's soaked figure from the night before etched in my mind. And yet, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Could I trust him? Should I even want to?
By midnight, I heard the faint scratching of the balcony door. My heart froze before I realized—I wasn't imagining it. Adrian.
He climbed inside like he owned the night, drenched again, dark hair plastered to his forehead. He froze the moment he saw me sitting on the bed, knees drawn to my chest.
"You shouldn't be here," I whispered, my voice trembling more than I wanted.
"I had to," he said, his voice raw. "Laurence, I need to tell you everything—before it's too late."
I felt the old anger flare, sharp and bitter. "Everything? Or just what you want me to hear?"
He took a hesitant step closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "I swear. The whole truth."
I swallowed, heart hammering, and let him sit beside me. The room smelled of rain and damp fabric, and for a moment, the anger between us flickered into something almost tender.
"I never meant to—" he began. Then stopped, jaw tight, eyes flicking to mine. "I didn't approach you because I wanted to hurt you. I came close because I needed answers about my family…about your father."
My chest tightened. "Answers?" I echoed, disbelief mixing with rising fear.
"Yes." He reached out, hesitated, and then let his fingers brush the back of my hand. "My father…he believed your dad was hiding something before he disappeared. Something dangerous. And I had to find out what it was. That's why I came close to you. That's why I…told myself I didn't care about you at first."
I flinched, tears prickling behind my eyes. "You lied to me."
"No. Not exactly. I lied to myself, maybe. I told myself I wouldn't feel anything. But I did. And then it became impossible not to care." His hand lingered near mine, the warmth almost unbearable.
I looked away. "So all of this—" I gestured vaguely between us, the apartment, the rain, the tension "—all of it…was just a game to spy on me?"
His face crumpled. "No. Never a game. I hated that I had to lie. I hated that I couldn't tell you the truth sooner. But I couldn't risk losing you before you even had a choice in it."
The room was silent except for our breaths, ragged and uneven. I wanted to scream at him, to push him away, to demand he leave. And yet, a part of me leaned forward, drawn to him despite the warning bells clanging in my chest.
"Laurence…" His voice softened, barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be the one more thing that hurts you. I just…need you to believe me. Can you do that? Can you believe me?"
I wanted to. My body wanted to. My heart was screaming yes. But my mind was screaming caution.
"I…don't know," I admitted finally, my voice cracking.
His hand found mine this time, fingers intertwining with mine, light but steady. "Then let me show you. Let me prove it."
We sat there like that, hand in hand, the rain tapping a quiet rhythm against the windows, neither of us moving. Every second stretched, tense and intimate.
Morning came too quickly. I awoke to sunlight spilling across my bedroom floor, illuminating the mess of crumpled sheets and lingering shadows of last night's conversation. Adrian was gone—leaving only the warmth of his presence and the ache of uncertainty behind.
At school, the tension was immediate. Every glance felt like a judge, every whisper a knife. I could feel the stares before I even walked into the cafeteria.
Adrian was there, too, sitting at the edge of the basketball court during lunch, eyes scanning for me. His expression was calm, careful, but I could feel the storm behind it.
I avoided him, weaving through groups of whispering students. But I couldn't ignore the way my stomach flipped when our eyes met. It wasn't just anger, or hurt—it was longing, confusion, and something far deeper.
When a group of students started in on me again, mocking the connection between Adrian and my father, he stepped forward, placing himself between me and the whispers. His gaze locked on theirs, sharp and protective.
"Enough," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Back off."
I felt a flicker of the old trust, mingled with frustration and heartbreak. He still wanted to protect me—but could I ever fully trust him again?
After school, I wandered into the mansion's garden, trying to escape the suffocating rumors. The autumn leaves crunched beneath my shoes, the air crisp and biting. And there he was again, leaning against the fountain, arms crossed, drenched in sunlight this time instead of rain, looking impossible and infuriating all at once.
"You keep running," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "And I keep following. Eventually, you'll stop."
I laughed bitterly. "Or eventually, you'll give up."
He shook his head. "Not a chance."
The moment stretched. The wind rustled through the leaves, brushing our cheeks with cool fingers. His hand hovered near mine—so close I could feel the heat radiating off him—but he didn't touch me. Not yet. Not until I let him.
"I don't know if I can trust you," I said softly, barely above a whisper.
"Then start with this," he replied, closing the distance enough for our shoulders to brush. "Let me prove it. One step at a time. That's all I'm asking."
I wanted to step away, but my body betrayed me. I wanted him. I wanted the comfort, the connection, the boy who made me feel something again. But my father's warning echoed in my mind: Trust no one. Especially not the Coles.
And yet…
I reached out, letting my fingers brush against his. Lightly, cautiously. A spark ran through me, warm and dangerous. His thumb stroked the back of my hand gently, a silent promise.
Before I could think, I felt the weight of all my emotions—anger, longing, betrayal, hope—collapse into that simple touch. I realized just how much I had missed this: the closeness, the understanding, the thrill of danger mixed with care.
Adrian's eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, the world outside vanished. It was just us, standing in the garden, fingers intertwined, two hearts tethered by secrets and desperation.
Then I remembered the letter.
I pulled my hand back sharply, breaking the spell. "We can't—" I whispered, voice trembling.
His face fell. "I know," he said quietly. "But we can't ignore it either. The truth about your father…your family…my family. It's out there, Laurence. And I won't rest until we find it. Together."
I stared at him, heart hammering. Could I trust him? Could I let myself fall again, knowing the danger?
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with trembling hands.
An unknown number.
I hesitated, then opened the message.
It was a single line:
"Stop looking, or you'll lose everything. – Someone who knows your father."
The blood drained from my face. My heart pounded. Adrian leaned closer, noticing the change.
"Who—" he started.
I swallowed hard, unable to speak. My father's letter, Adrian's confession, the warnings, the whispers—it all collided into one crushing truth: we weren't just tangled in adolescent heartbreak anymore. We were stepping into something far more dangerous.
And in that moment, I knew our fragile trust, our stolen moments, our first real connection—everything—was about to be tested in ways neither of us could have imagined.
The garden felt impossibly quiet, the trees bending in the wind as if whispering secrets I wasn't ready to hear.
But for the first time in weeks, I wasn't completely alone. Adrian was there, and despite everything, I knew we had to face the storm together.
Or we'd be lost.